Air To Air

It was coming soon, for both of them. Sooner than usual, but that was fine. That was perfectly acceptable while they were just with one another. Walter buried himself in her neck, kissing her neck, playing with her chin and swallowing her noises with his own. They echoed in her ears, the deep rumble in him in the rut, the whine of her pleasure slowing falling dead in the threads of the blanket. No echo, just heavy thudding noise that stayed dull.

Walter moved past the pain. He was close and that was much more important. He needed to be down in the endless release. And Teresa was with him there, on the edge. She always went pained silent when she was close, clutching at his hands, moving her shoulders in erratic waves. He was always close when his hips started to stutter at the start and stop.

Teresa turned and kissed him again, locking them both in the same moment. Both pulse and shot and rocking motion down through the warmth. She moaned. He moaned into her, just as loud with the same terrible need for another wonderous body. Deep, he was deep and filling her with the same warmth she always craved.

It pattered out in slow warming sunlight. The blanket was gone, discarded on the floor, almost forgotten. She was still warm. The single ray had traced a long path up the wall, almost up to the ceiling. It would slip down into the darkness soon enough. It was almost gone, almost dark. They were still together, brought down to the simple pleasure of the completed act. Their fingers were still interlocked, clenching and tight, slowly falling back int something more complex. The thoughts were back, but calmer now. He was there. She was there. Nothing was between them in the slightest. No gaps at all.

They broke and stared and closed their eyes to anything but the sensation. The breath slowed with the heartbeat and his softening length slowly slipped out, leaving a terrible hollow in her stomach. She turned and faced him, nuzzling under his chin, catching a glimpse of that stupid, stupid tattoo. She laughed. He didn't mind.

"Does that guy have a name?" she asked, tracing a finger over the ink.

"Never got around to it," sighed Walter, kissing the crown of her skull, "Mostly, I just pretend it's not there."

"You should think of something. I like it."

"It's dumb."

"No, its lame. I like it though."

"I like the scars. Do you have anymore?"

"Just the swing one. Should I get more?"

"Maybe. But you have to earn them. So, some field landings ought to do something like that."

"No, no. No more planes. Maybe a truck."

"Or a bakery."

He laughed until it hurt. The bruise was back now that everything was done and over with. She wanted to poke at it until he moaned again. But she didn't.

"Are you going to miss it?" she whispered.

"Probably. I think you are too. It's fun. But we'll find something."

"Yeah, we will."

One last kiss, soft and pure and simple. They were done, in every sense of the word.

---

"Bacon and eggs, choco waffle."

"Order up."

"Gold Burger, side of loaded tots, add an egg."

"Order up."

"Cherry Bomb wings, extra wet, extra bleu cheese."

"Order up."

"Give me a kiss."

"Order up."

A moment, they could spare a moment together. Walter tasted like grease and sweat. Teresa tasted like sweat and annoyance. The one old guy at the corner would not shut up about getting more ice in his cup. It was all ice. There was not a drop of soda in that glass. And he still wanted more ice. He would get it whipped at the back of his stupid bald head. It would be worth it. The mom sitting next to him would also appreciate it. Solution, give the ice to the kid, have him throw it with all the infinite strength of a toddler.

The lunch rush ended and the old man left without tipping. He didn't get an ice cube to the temple. He got a middle finger. The kid learned something that day and that was suddenly the mom's problem. It was an important lesson.

Walter stretched, his mind still lingering on the act of work. There were other things that they could do. Probably. Maybe. It seemed like they could do more. But he couldn't find anything. Chop some things, clean some things, grate some things, but everything was more or less done. And then they could always do it later. They could always just shut it down for the rest of the day. Dinner was never really a big deal for them, oddly enough. Mostly breakfast and lunch. Teresa took off her shoes and rubbed the soles of her feet.

"We shutting down for the day?" he asked.

"Let me check the till. I'm pretty sure we have enough for the week, but let me just make sure," she sighed. Some quick math and a good round of mental debate later gave her an answer.

"Nope, still have some more to go for the week."

Walter stretched and worked his hips a bit. Something gave and popped. He didn't think about it. He could still get up and get out of bed with a minimal level of prodding. Most of the time. Some of the time. Although, in his defense, Teresa usually made a very good argument for staying in bed and not opening the diner. They would sell the damn thing and retire forever and ever off the franchise rights.

"Boo," he said, "We're out of the stuff for like half the wing sauces."

"I'll mark 'em off. Go take a nap. I'll close up and come up in a sec."

"Need help?"

"Nah, I got. You just have to open for dinner."

"Fair. Love you."

"Love you too."

Walter leaned through the service window and found her again. This was still a wall between them but most of was cut out. And there was a big window that they could reach through at any time. The door was right over there. He could walk over and break through it at any time. They had their moment together, just the two of them behind the closed door and the flipped sign. Walter went upstairs to their shared loft. He'd come back down in a few hours or so. That worked for him.